No One But Us
by sondragonfly
Summary: "In spite of it all, we would always return to each other, to this little clearing. Alone together here, nothing else mattered. No one else mattered. No one but us." DMPP. Conversations during their years at Hogwarts. Rated for language and adult themes.
1. Prologue

**A/N:** This is simply a collection of conversations between Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson over the years they spent at Hogwarts. They are not necessarily in chronological order except for the first conversation and the last.

**Disclaimer:** Any recognizable situations and characters are the property of J.K. Rowling, etc., and were used without permission. I'm not claiming them as my own nor am I using them for profit. It's Rowling's universe; I just play in it.

* * *

**Prologue**

_We were stunning together, everyone always said. We were night and day, didn't you know? The silver-haired Adonis and the jet-black Persephone. We were king and queen of Slytherin. We were invincible. We were destined._

_"You exaggerate," you always told me. "We were children. How can you possibly believe all that nonsense? Don't you dare tell me, you the cynic—you the practical. Don't you dare say that you believe in fate."_

_But I did, and I do. How else can you explain us? From the very beginning, I knew. You and I were made for each other—_meant _for each other._

_Even then, ours wasn't the greatest love, or even the most content or most faithful. More often than not, it was confusing, and chaotic, and sometimes abusive. I don't know, looking back, whether we had more good days than bad. We cheated. We doubted each other and ourselves. We both purposefully—_maliciously_—hurt and mocked and lied._

_"It's so difficult loving you," you've said, casually inspecting your perfect fingernails. "It's like trying to love an animal who longs—even begs—to be petted but attempts to bite off your hand as soon as you come near."_

_There were days when I loathed you just as much as I loved you._

_But what we had was genuine. We never made what we were more than what it was… but what we had was enough. Because in spite of it all, we would always return to each other, to this little clearing. Alone together here, nothing else mattered. No one else mattered...  
.  
.  
.  
__No one but us._


	2. The Clearing

**The Clearing**

"So this is where you've been hiding."

A grimace. "Not anymore, apparently."

"Don't worry. I won't tell your lackeys where you've been running off to without them." A sidelong look. "Are you upset that I found your little hiding place?"

"Only if you plan on staying," he sniffed. "That's my subtle way of telling you to sod off."

Huffing, "How _dare_ you speak to me that way! I'm a _lady_!"

Smirking, "Just not enough of one to get into Beauxbaton."

"And my dear old mummy didn't want me going to Durmstrang because she didn't think I could handle being so far from home all by my lonesome," she pouted. "No, wait…that was _you_. Odd how I mixed that up."

He gave her a half smile and a nod, conceding that snipe. Triumphant, she plopped down gracelessly beside him.

"Do you have to lie down _right_ next to me?" he asked, annoyed, but moving over to make room for her.

"I want to see what you're looking at."

"Nothing."

"That can't be true. Tell me what you see. Is it that bunny?" She pointed above them.

"That's not a bunny, nitwit. That's a two-headed dragon."

She squinted. "No, it's a bunny. Look at its tail! It's fluffy."

"For Merlin's sake, of course it's fluffy! It's a cloud!"

"Humph, you are not a very nice person anymore, Draco Malfoy."

"And yet, you are still here. I must be doing something wrong."

"I've known you for as long as I remember, and yet you were never mean until we came to Hogwarts. And now you have a gang of thugs. Why do you have to pick on everyone?"

"We're not babies anymore, Pansy. People grow up, and they change. Maybe I'm meant to grow up and be a mean person."

She took his hand. "I don't believe that. You were always nice to me before. You protected me and my dollies when Crabbe and Goyle wanted to throw them into the lake."

"Well, you were my guest. If you had gone crying to your mother, as I knew you would, _I _would be the one receiving the punishment. I was saving myself."

"You were saving me," she insisted, shaking her head.

"It's not always about you. Not everything people do is based on some greater good. Sometimes the things we do are because we're selfish, horrible people. And sometimes the benefits overlap. That's the difference between Gryffindors and Slytherins, you know. Gryffindors are supposed to be brave, stupidly so, for the greater good. Slytherins can also be brave, but we're not stupid about it. We pick and choose our battles as it suits us. And that's why we survive."

"Is that why you wanted to be a Slytherin?"

"No. I'm a Slytherin because _Malfoys_ are Slytherins," he said simply. He looked at her from the corner of his eye. "Why did _you_ want to be a Slytherin?"

_Because that's where _you_ were._ She shrugged and didn't reply. After a few moments, she asked softly, "Is it so bad to be caring, Draco?"

He sighed and looked up at the sky again. "Is it so important to be cared _for_, Pansy?"

She didn't know how to respond to that one either. Searching for answer, she glanced down between them.

He was still holding her hand.


	3. The Letter

**A/N:** It's almost 4 AM. I shouldn't be up, but this was bugging me all day.

* * *

**The Letter**

"Those things will kill you, you know."

She blew the smoke in his direction. "We're already dying."

"I see teenage angst has struck full-force," he replied wryly.

"Fuck off, Draco. I don't want to hear it today."

"You skipped all your classes today. Again."

"Yes, well, these things do happen. I was suffering from a terrible bout of the plague."

"The plague?"

She shrugged. "I don't know, it's some sort of Muggle disease that killed a third of Europe."

"Leave it up to Muggles to come up with the vaguest name for their most devastating illness," he replied dryly. "Anyway, I collected your school work." He tossed a bundle of papers at her feet. Her toenails, he noticed, were painted blood red. "Millicent says you're not eating meals."

"Millicent eats enough for the both of us."

"I can't argue with that logic," he smirked. "But I'm not going to take a skeleton to the Yule Ball. It's terribly out of fashion these days."

"What does it matter? That veela whore will be there. No one will be looking at me."

"Yes, and if you starve yourself, it will really teach her a lesson." He took the fag from her mouth and took a deep drag before throwing it away. She made a face at him.

"My mother sent me a horrid looking dress. Pink and frilly. It's repulsive. She thinks I'm six years old and blind."

He let out a short laugh. "It must have been the most expensive set of robes in the shop."

"Poor mummy did always think price implied style. Merlin, it's so awful."

"So will you go to the ball with me? I can ensure a night of dancing and Weasel badgering. You know that lot will be dressed to the nines in their best castoffs."

That got a smile out of her. "I'd enjoy being seen with you. Daphne will be incredibly jealous. She practically wets herself thinking about you every night."

"Vulgar, Parkinson. What would your mother think?"

"See, there's the flaw in your reasoning, darling. Poor mummy doesn't. She smiles and waves. Sometimes, if it's required, she cries and hugs. For fun, she criticizes."

"Is that what this is all about?"

Silently, she handed him a tear stained letter. He read it, wincing along the way. Criticize was too mild a word for what was written in the letter. "I'm sorry, Pans." It was all he could think to say.

She looked up at the darkening sky. "The snow's starting to fall." Small light flakes began to drift down from above.

Sitting in front of her, he ripped the paper to shreds, making a tiny little pile between them. Pointing his wand at the pile, he murmured, _"Incendio!"_ The pieces caught fire quickly and vanished into the night air.


	4. The Reason

**The Reason**

"What do you tell Crabbe and Goyle?"

"What do I tell them…_when?"_

"When you want to be alone."

"Merlin, what do you tell your dog when you want to be alone? Nothing. I just tell them to stay, and they don't follow me."

"Just like that?"

"They're not here now, are they?" he said, shrugging.

"You treat them like animals."

"They allow themselves to be treated like animals. If they don't obey me, they'll latch on to someone else."

"Why would you even put up with them?" she asked grumpily. She began ripping out tufts of grass and throwing it into the wind. "They're boring, and rude, and stupid."

"Why do you put up with Bulstrode? She's fat and ugly, as well as boring."

"She wouldn't have any friends if I didn't include her," replied Pansy, frowning.

"Ever the humanitarian, Pans. Always looking out for the downtrodden."

"Besides, she's in love with you. It's always, 'Draco this' and 'Draco that.' She wouldn't always be hanging off my arm if I weren't with you so much." She snorted. "As though she even had a chance with you to begin with."

He smiled dryly. "Are you calling me a snob?"

Sweetly, "No, dearest, I'm calling you a Slytherin. You're cold, calculating, ambitious, and Pureblood. That's why you wouldn't be seen alone with Millicent if the fate of the known world depended on it. And that's why _I_ put up with you."

"Is that so?" He was grinning in earnest now. "So why would I put up with _you_?"

With lowered lashes, she matched his grin. "Because I'm the only one you know who's worth it."


	5. The Consequences

**The Consequences**

"Draco!" she sing-songed.

"Parkinson… I'm trying to sleep." He didn't even deign to open his eyes.

"How can you sleep at a time like this?"

"It's very easily, actually. You simply close your eyes, perhaps first prostrating yourself on your back. It is, however, much more difficult when you have an _insufferable git_ talking your ear off."

She ignored the barb. "People have been saying you're the Heir of Slytherin."

"I _should_ be the Heir," he grumbled.

"So you're not?"

"You know I'm not. When would I even have the _time_ be the Heir? I'd never be able to get away from you all to do anything!"

"This is serious," she pouted.

He finally tossed her a look. "Why are you so dressed up for classes?"

"I'm not dressed up," huffed Pansy.

Narrowing his eyes, "We have Defense Against the Dark Arts today, don't we?"

She stuck up her nose at him. "I wouldn't know."

"Pans, how can you fall for that barmy old prat? He's so bloody full of himself."

"Can you blame him? He's _gorgeous!"_

"He's also old enough to be your father."

Confused, "Did I mention he was gorgeous?"

A sigh. "It doesn't matter which House. You girls are _all _mad."

"No need to be jealous, darling."

"I'm not jealous," he retorted, sitting up. "Just sick and tired of having the entire female population at Hogwarts fawning over every move he makes. Even that Mudblood Granger"—Pansy winced—"who thinks she's as brainy as they come is beside herself with giddiness."

"I'm not _infatuated_ with him, Draco. He's just a celebrity. It doesn't mean anything."

"Oh, quit talking, Parkinson. Or I might just make you regret it."

"I'm just saying—"

As quick as lightning, he pounced on her, his fingers instantly finding her most ticklish spots. She shrieked with laughter, and he didn't let up until her perfectly done hair came tumbling around her shoulders. "Will you quit talking about him?" he demanded over her giggling.

"_I swear it! I swear!"_

"Good." His smug face was flushed, and Pansy admired the way his normally sleeked back hair fell over his eyes.

"I never could fancy him as much as you, anyway," she added as an afterthought.

Draco groaned. "You never know when to stop, do you?" he asked, the corners of his lips curling. Bending his neck ever so slightly, he stopped her mouth the only way he knew how.


	6. The Request

**The Request**

"Where are you, Draco Malfoy?"

"What are you talking about, Parkinson? I'm right here."

She shook her head. "Your body's here with me… but _you_ are far, far away."

He sighed and tightened his hold on her, her little body tucked closely against his own. "I'm here right now. With you."

"I miss you," whispered Pansy, barely audible. Laying a hand on his chest, he winced and pulled away slightly. "Let me see," she demanded, sitting up.

Resigned, he slowly unbuttoned his shirt to reveal his newly formed scars. She traced the angry pink lines delicately, her whole body shaking in rage. _"I'll kill him,"_ she said viciously. "He nearly kills you, and he gets _detention? _That bastard deserves to be hanged!"

"He'll be dead soon enough," Draco told her emotionlessly. She didn't understand what he meant by that, nor could she understand his passivity about the whole situation. Something, she realized, was not right—and hadn't been right—this entire year.

His skin was sallow, more than usual. His hair hung limp and dull. There were dark bags under his eyes. He missed Quidditch practices and games. She didn't even know if he was still on the team. He would hide away for hours, mayhap days, at a time. He skipped lessons and meals…

"Tell me, Draco," she pleaded, reaching out for him. "Tell me what's wrong."

"I can't, Pans, it's too dangerous." He moved away from her, as though his touch could contaminate her.

"I can help! I know I can. I can do anything if it's for you—!"

"No, Pansy! This isn't like anything before…. This isn't the Inquisitorial Squad. This is _real life—real danger!_ Merlin, they'll kill me if I can't do it. Kill my mother! If I tell you anything, if you know anything, they'll kill you too, and I couldn't live with that."

"I don't care about the danger! I just care about you!" Tears were streaming furiously from her face. "All of this—all I've ever wanted was to be with you, and help you!"

"You can't help me… no one can."

"And you won't even let me help you try?"

"Drop it, Parkinson. Just leave it alone. I'm not playing games anymore. _You can get killed doing what I'm doing._ For all I know, _I_ could die! I'm just trying to protect you."

"If you're going to get hurt, why are you doing it? Why are you putting yourself in danger? Why don't you get help?_ Damn you, Malfoy, answer me!" _She began pounding frantically on his chest, her eyes wild. _"Why?"_

"Pansy! _Pansy, stop!"_ He gripped her close to him, trying to still her movements, until she could do nothing but sob violently into him. Her tears were hot against his chest.

"Let me do _something_," she said weakly, clutching at his robes. _"Please."_

He kissed her forehead tenderly, his own tears now falling. "Just love me, Pansy," he whispered into her hair, as they rocked back and forth in that empty clearing. "Just love me."


	7. The Bet

**A/N:** I'm not quite content about how this chapter turned out, but I wanted to give you something more light hearted than last chapter, and this senario kept playing out in my mind. Enjoy!

**P.S.:** I've also reworked the Prologue of this story. Just an extra paragraph and some other slight changes that I hope will help further explain the complex relationship between Pansy and Draco.

* * *

**The Bet**

Pansy braced herself.

"Prat."

"Git."

"Bint!"

"_Bastard!"_

"Snob!"

"Megalomaniac!"

"_Nympho_maniac!"

"Arsehole!"

"Munter!"

"Scrote!"

"Minger!"

"_Wanker!"_

"_Slag!"_

"Uh, bloody—!"

"AH-HA! _Result!"_ Draco cried out triumphantly. "I win!" He grinned smugly at Pansy.

"What? You little cheat! How in hell did you win? You interrupted my last insult!"

"Tut-tut, darling. You used 'bloody,' which is an intensifier and is against the rules, as you well know. You were getting desperate and thought I wouldn't notice."

She seethed. "I call for replay. You didn't let me finish, and I could have said _anything_."

"What could you possibly say with the word 'bloody' and have it not be an intensifier? 'Bloody diarrhea,' perhaps? In which case, I could still say that 'bloody' is used to describe the diarrhea, thus _intensifying_ the insult. Either way, I win and you lose."

Glaring, "I _bloody _hate you."

"Hmm, yes, but I'm afraid you still lost the bet." He tossed her a roll of blank parchment. "Fifteen inches on the Cruciatus Curse for Defense Against the Dark Arts due tomorrow. Oh, and Pansy-love, don't write it in pink again. It does nothing for my reputation, and Moody says it hurts his eyes… well, one of them, anyway."

Grumbling, "I don't understand how you get such good marks when you never do any of your own work."

"That, my dear, is precisely _why_ I get the marks I do," said Draco, smirking. "Besides, you should be flattered that I regard your work highly enough to substitute it for my own. Malfoys never settle for second best. Which is why I chose _you_." He tapped the end of her nose.

"You _chose_ me to do your homework? My heart is all a flutter now. How honored you make me feel."

"Sarcasm is not becoming on a lady, Parkinson. And yes, you _should_ feel honored! I could have had anyone in the school do my homework, but you—_you!_—were the only one I felt qualified. No, you were the only one I _trusted_ to enter into this sacred pact with."

Pansy was hard pressed not to smile. She hated to admit it, but he was charming her into doing his homework… and for the life of her, she could not explain why he was succeeding.

"Now tell me you're not going to renege on our bet. That would be terribly un-Slytherin of you, eh, Pans?"

A pause. A shrewd grin. _"Dearest."_

He smiled winningly. "Yes, pet?"

"Darling," she said pointedly.

Understanding. "Ducky."

"Snookums."

"Treacle."

"_Lover."_

"Hinney."

"Baby."

"Sweetheart—"

"AH-HA!"

Glaring, "You must be joking."

"You know the rules about intensifiers, _Draco dear._ 'Heart' would certainly have sufficed, but you had to _intensify_ it with 'sweet.' Touching, really, but 'twas ultimately your downfall."

She beamed at him, holding out her own roll of parchment. "My assignment is fifteen inches for Professor Moody on the Imperious Curse due tomorrow." He grabbed the scroll from her hand, shooting daggers at her. "Oh, and Draco…." She grinned. "Use pink."


	8. The Discovery

**A/N:** I'm going out of town and away from my computer for a few days, so I wanted to get this (longer!) chapter up to leave with you guys. It might be too soon for a darker chapter, but I really enjoyed writing this because it's so different from the others (IMO, at least). Thanks everyone for the encouraging reviews! Hopefully I'll continue to live up to them. :-) Enjoy!

**P.S.: **I upped the rating to M. I don't know if this chapter warrants the change, but I'm suspecting future chapters will. :-P

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**The Discovery**

"You're a fucking whore." It was said without any sort of emotion or heat behind it. Very casually, actually. As though they were out for a cup of tea and had just finished talking about the unusually warm weather they'd been having.

"Am I?" was the reply. Equally cold; equally distant.

"Don't try to deny it. Not only is it the only thing _anyone_ is talking about is this bloody school, but I saw you sneaking away with him while you were supposed to be in class—twice in the past week." A sneer. "You're getting sloppy, dear."

A dry laugh. "You only say that because you think that you saw us twice out of two times. If you knew how many times we actually snuck away—_darling—_you wouldn't be calling me sloppy."

She hit her mark and knew it immediately. Pansy could always read Draco like a book. His face was carefully blank, but she could see the muscles in his jaw jumping.

"And how is Nott doing?" he asked politely. If he had any, he would have offered her a scone or maybe some sugar with her tea.

"Theodore is doing very well, thank you. Looks a tad bit exhausted, if you ask me, but I'm sure he'll recover shortly. He is young, after all."

Draco was tired of playing games. "Do you love him?"

She sneered. It was a look mocking enough to rival his. "Don't be ridiculous, Malfoy."

"That's not an answer."

"No, I don't love him at all. I barely like him as a person. He's nothing more to me than a good mindless shag. _Is that what you wanted to hear?"_

Draco came toward her quickly, and she cringed slightly, though visibly. Of all the things that could make him break his studied calm, the sight of Pansy cowering topped the list. "Oh, for fuck's sake, Pans!" he said angrily. "What did you think I was going to do? _Hit you?_ I have _never_ raised a hand to you—and I never _will_—no matter how hard you try me!" Raking his hand through his hair, he narrowed his eyes at her. "Have…have you been crying?"

Pansy turned away, not meeting his eyes, and realization struck him immediately and so painfully that it was almost physical the shock he received.

His fists clenched, fingernails biting into his palm. "I'll fucking kill him, I swear to Merlin." Pansy couldn't see any trace of emotion in his face or hear it in his voice, but it was times like these when Draco scared her the most. She knew that he wasn't just making a threat—it was a promise.

"No, Draco, don't!" she cried out, holding on to his arm, as though keeping him from going and fulfilling what he swore to her. "Please don't hurt him! He's only done it once or twice."

He pulled her close and wiped away her tears that managed to escape, revealing a fading black eye she covered up with Muggle make-up. "This wasn't just once or twice. You need to stop lying to me, Pansy."

She shook her head. "No, no… It was all my fault, Draco. I shouldn't have—!"

"I don't care what you did or didn't do to set him off. It is not an excuse. _No one_ should touch you like that!" he said fiercely. "_No one should hit you!"_ Pansy began to weep in earnest now, and he wrapped her in his arms, smoothing down her dark hair.

"Promise me you won't hurt him, Draco," sniffled Pansy into his shirt. "What if you get expelled? Don't do anything to him. I promise I'll stay away from him. Just don't do anything."

Draco reluctantly agreed, if only to calm her down. Nothing would happen to Nott, he promised her. But Malfoys had long memories… and they never forgave.

"You're so small, Pans," he whispered after she had settled down a bit. "So fragile…"

He continued to hold her in his arms, until the sun dipped low in the horizon, and by then Pansy was soundly asleep with her head resting on his lap. He combed through her black hair with his fingers and sighed.

"Why do you let them treat you like garbage," he asked her sleeping form, "when you are so obviously destined to be a queen?"


	9. The Wish

**A/N:** I'm back in town at last! Here's a slightly longer chapter for your patience. My family and I traveled to PA and had a lovely time. By the way, I'm finally going to start my summer job, and it may or may not affect the frequency of my updates. I don't think it will, but just thought I'd let you all know. Thanks for the reviews, all! I really appreciate you taking time to encourage me. ) Enjoy the chappy!

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**The Wish**

"There it is!" Pansy closed one eye, tracing the constellation with her finger and marked it on her scroll. "We're halfway done."

"Good," Draco murmured distractedly and copied her work onto his own scroll.

"I don't see why we couldn't do this on the Astronomy Tower. It would be so much easier there."

"And it's the day before this assignment's due. The tower is going to be crawling with students. We have this clearing all to ourselves, and the highest powered telescope my father's money can buy. We don't need the Astronomy Tower."

"Well, you can at least help me do some of the work."

"I am!" Draco tried his best to look offended. "I'm keeping you warm, aren't I? I even brought us some butterbeer and sweets—don't you roll your eyes at me!"

"Fine, buy my homework. You'll see who's laughing when O.W.L.s roll around, and you can't even pick out the one big star that shines out the brightest during the day."

"Don't be silly, darling. I know stars don't shine during the day."

A glare. _"You_ do the next one."

A sniff. "All right, I will. You needn't get your knickers in a twist."

"My knickers are _not_ in a twist," she muttered rebelliously under her breath.

"Um, Pans, stars aren't suppose to move, right?"

"Are you purposely being dense? It's a shooting star!" They watched the falling star streak across the sky in silence. "There's a Muggle belief about wishes coming true when you make them after watching a falling star."

"Muggle rubbish."

"Come on, Draco. Let's make a wish! It'll be fun. What do you wish for?"

"I wish that I'll be able to get through this stupid class without casting _Avada Kedavra_ on myself."

"Draco!" She hit his arm none too lightly. "I'm being serious."

"I am too! I hate this class."

"Make a real wish, Draco, or I'm leaving and you can finish all the work yourself."

"Fine," he said, sighing. "But you first."

"I wish… for a large unplottable mansion on the coast manned by a fleet of house elves, three children—two boys and a girl—who will all be extraordinarily gifted in magic and attend Hogwarts as Slytherins, and a handsome husband who will dote on me hand and foot."

"…Are you _serious?"_

"What?"

"Is that actually what you're going to wish for?"

"Are you criticizing my wish?!"

"Your wish deserves to be criticized! You can wish for _anything_—fame, power, riches—and you choose to wish for things that you don't even need to wish for! In fact, they're even _likely_ to happen—give or take a few of the more elaborate adjectives you used. You might as well wish for the sun to rise and the house elves to clean up after you every morning."

"Very funny, Malfoy," said Pansy dryly. "Mock me all you want, I'm not changing my wish. Besides, I thought you considered all this 'Muggle rubbish' anyway."

"I do, but when an unimaginative, ornery witch forces me to humor her—"

"_You think I'm unimaginative just because of my wish?"_

"No, I _know_ you're unimaginative. Your wish was just the most recent example."

"What are you talking about? My wish was detailed and thoughtful!"

"You wished to get married and have kids, Pans. Thousands of people do it every day without a thought. It's not extraordinary—certainly isn't wish-worthy."

"Well, _you_ are an unromantic, insensitive jerk!"

"At least you're accurate. I never could fault you for that."

"—I'm leaving."

"Ugh, don't go, Pansy. _Sheesh_."

"You obviously don't appreciate me. I don't know what I'm even doing here."

He managed to capture her hand before she stormed out of the clearing. "You're here because you care whether or not I pass Astronomy," he entreated, "despite my misguided attempts to teach you how to make a proper wish."

"And how would you classify a proper wish?" she sniffed.

"A proper wish, my dear, is hoping against hope. It's about reaching for the exceptional, the impossible. A proper wish isn't something you can make happen. It's out of your control, but in the power of something—or someone—else. That's why it's called _wishing_."

"What do _you_ wish for, Draco?"

He thought for a moment before replying. "I honestly don't know. I can't think of anything that I don't have within my power to attain."

The hurt look on Pansy's face was hidden by the shadows. "You know, you're right, Draco," she said after a moment. "I've decide to change my wish."

"Oh, yeah?" He was already distracted by his half-finished assignment.

"Yeah, unattainable, right? My wish is that one day you're going to love someone as much as you love yourself." With that she turned and left the clearing.


	10. The Declaration

**A/N:** YAY it's chapter 10! I've had this chappy for a couple days but I didn't know how to end it until tonight, so thanks for your patience. Also a BIG **THANK YOU** to my faithful reviewers: sugarbabe1, namelessxfreak, 'De Zabini Malfoy, and justawritier. You guys rock :) And welcome, new readers! I hope everyone continues to enjoy reading what I enjoy writing. Much love.

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**The Declaration**

"So we're not going to talk about last night at all?"

"Nope."

"You're serious?"

"Yup."

"Um… alright…"

A sigh. "Do you _want_ to talk about it?"

Succinctly, "Yes."

"Why?"

"I don't know… It's a girl thing, I suppose."

Amused, "Huh, from what I recall, I was involved too."

A blush. "No, I meant the talking thing. I just need to know…"

"What? What do you need to know?"

"I need to know what this _means_ to you."

"I'm not following."

"Draco, what we did completely changes everything between us…"

Never had Draco seen Pansy this utterly vulnerable. It unnerved him, but he forced himself to be blank. If he was good at anything, it was the ability to hide his emotions. It was a lesson that he was forced to learn growing up a Malfoy.

"I don't see how."

Frustration was plain on her face. "We share something now. Something indefinably special. We have a power over each other that no one else has. _You_ have power over me…"

"I've always had power over you, Pans," he said flatly. "Ever since we were little. You've always looked to me for everything."

"I suppose I knew even then the role you would play in my life. I can't help but feel like I exist only for you."

"That's ridiculous. How could you possibly know that? We were children… we still are in so many ways."

"Age doesn't matter," said Pansy, shaking her head. "We're timeless."

"You always say that… Why does it feel, then, like I'm running out of time?"

She swallowed. "Draco, I—"

"Merlin, you're going to say it, aren't you?"

"_What?"_

"You're going to tell me you love me."

"Would that be so horrible, Draco?" she asked bitterly. "Knowing that _someone_ loves you? That they'd put up with anything just to be near you?"

"Horrible? No, not for me… but it would be horrible for the person who'd do that, loving without being loved back."

"I don't believe it. I don't believe for an instant that you're incapable of loving."

"I didn't claim to be incapable of love. The question is whether I'm capable of loving _you_."

"You are. You _do_." She said it firmly, without reservations, without fear.

"How do you know?" said Draco softly, almost curiously.

"Because I _do_, Draco!" Pansy threw up her hands in irritation. "The same way I know when you're happy, or upset, or tired simply by the way you walk and talk and breathe. The same way I know, without you having to tell me, that you're going to be out here in the clearing just by the way your day went. I _know_, Draco, because I know _you!"_

"So _what_ do you know?"

"I know you care for me because you show me every day. You make sure I go to class, and that I eat my meals. You shield me from the worst of Snape's cruel remarks." She was getting angry now. "You make sure the guys I'm seeing don't talk about me behind my back and even beat them up when they so much as _look_ at another girl!

"You even read my mail before I do—_behind my back, no less_—to make sure my mother didn't send me another one of her nasty letters!" At this point, Pansy was shouting at the top of her lungs. _"So before you even _try_ to claim you can't fucking love me, you arrogant little prick, let me tell you—!"_

"_I LOVE YOU, PANSY PARKINSON!"_

Those words hung in the air, and inanely Pansy thought that if she reached out her hands, she would be able to feel the words between them.

She gulped.

He held is breath.

Finally… finally, she gave him a tentative smile. "Good. Because I love you too, Draco Malfoy."


	11. The Price

**A/N: **It feels like I've been slacking off in updating, but I promise it's for a good cause! I'm developing a multi-chapter (and plot, hehe) fic. It's tentatively titled "The Sanctity Of Blood" and it's gonna ship Lucius and Narcissa. Anyways, has anyone seen the new HP movie yet? I'm going to see it this weekend, but I've been watching GoF religiously for the past couple days to get "in the mood" for the next movie, and thus, this chapter was born. Thanks for the reviews and I hope you enjoy this update:)

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**The Price**

"Do—do you believe him?" Her voice was quivering.

"I don't know…" 

"Cedric Diggory is dead."

"I heard," he snapped. "The whole fucking _school_ heard." Draco couldn't shake the image of Diggory's body lying eagle-spread on the ground, his eyes still open in mild surprise. Nor would he soon forget the cries of Diggory's father, weeping over the boy.

"Potter said… he said the Dark Lord—" She couldn't finish her sentence. She could barely fathom it. How could You-Know-Who have risen again after so long?

"My father—he would have told me _something_," Draco mused. _Wouldn't he?_

Pansy sat under a tree, her knees held tight against her chest, staring out blankly into the clearing. "They never talk of it, you know. They never tell me, no matter how I beg, they never tell me what happened… _before_."

His father had. "You don't want to know, Pans."

"Tell me."

"No, I can't."

"_Tell me, Draco."_ There was a hardness in her voice that he never heard before. She was still staring into nothing, not seeming to notice him leaning on the tree beside her. He could sense that she wouldn't let him go without answering her question.

He took a deep breath. "People died the last time… a lot of people. Muggles and wizards, no matter the blood. Everyone was scared. Everyone was running for their lives, but there was no where to run _to_. You couldn't trust anyone because you never knew who was in league with _him_. The Ministry couldn't do anything to stop it. It lasted eleven years."

"I had an older brother once," she whispered after a few silent moments. "The Parkinson heir. He was in Slytherin, too—a prefect and brilliant at Transfiguration. He had just gotten a job at the Ministry, when…." He turned to her and saw the tears that were silently streaming down her face.

"Everyone has a story like yours."

"But they shouldn't!" she snarled, her eyes flashing. _"No one should have a story like this! They should have brothers and sons and fathers—not stories!" _Her harsh breathing filled the space between them.

Draco was quiet and waited while she calmed down. Finally, he said quietly, "We each pay a price for our beliefs, Pansy. For some it's time, or money, or comfort… If you believe in the sanctity of blood, then the price _is_ blood. The penalty is steep and unforgiving, and sometimes… others must pay it."

Understanding dawned on her. "You're going to join _them_, aren't you?"

He nodded grimly. "I have no choice. I was born into the Blood, as were you, or have you forgotten? What else are we to do when all that we believe in is threatened? Anything less than devotion to the cause is blood treason."

"I'm not going to kill for a _belief_," she spat.

Draco looked down at her sadly. "Then pray to Merlin that you won't die for one either."


	12. The Turning Point

**A/N:** Heh, so despite my very best intention of making a schedule and sticking to it, on my first week I'm already behind posting by two hours. Heh, deadlines. In other news, I thoroughly enjoyed the movie, despite the inaccuracies. I love Luna, she was so cute! And I wish that Bellatrix had more screen time. Also, this past week I've discovered that I'm in love with all Malfoys. Anyway, here's the update. Enjoy!

P.S. Three more days until Book Seven! YAY!!!

* * *

**The Turning Point**

"So why is it you're crying every time I see you?"

"Sod off, Malfoy."

"It was an honest question, Parkinson. Needn't bite my head off."

"Could you just leave me alone please?"

"You do realize it's raining kneazles and cats out?"

"I don't care."

"Do you want some company while you sulk, then?"

"I'm not in the mood."

"You're never in the mood nowadays." He sat down next to her, holding the umbrella between them. Didn't really matter now, he thought, as she was already soaked to the bone. "Are you homesick?"

A sniff. "A bit," she said, grudgingly.

"I hate to break it to you, Parkinson, but we're going to be here for the better part of decade. You sort of need to get used to the place."

"I know that!" she snapped. "It's just that… things were easier back home."

"How do you mean?"

Pansy sighed dejectedly. "Parvati Patil refuses to associate with me now."

"Is she in… Ravenclaw?"

"Gryffindor. We used to be the best of friends before school started. Now she calls me a…_slimy Slytherin._" She pursed her lips, trying to hold back the tears that were starting to form again.

Draco looked disgusted. "Well, what did you expect? The prat got herself sorted into _Gryffindor._" He practically spat the word.

"We've been friends for _ages_. I can't believe she'd do that to me."

"Parkinson, you've got to learn right now that Slytherins and Gryffindors _don't_ get along. It's a House rivalry that goes back centuries, probably to the very beginning of Hogwarts. That, and the fact that Slytherins are pretty much universally hated."

"That's another thing I don't understand! Why does everyone seem to hate us? Slytherin is not synonymous for _evil_."

He let out a short, barking laugh. "Are you serious, Pans? Slytherin has produced more dark wizards and witches than all of the other three Houses combined! There's a _reason_ for the stereotype."

She glared daggers at him. "That can't be true. I don't believe you."

"Didn't anyone tell you what it meant to be Slytherin?" he asked her incredulously. His father, and his mother to some degree, had explained to Draco extensively what it meant to be a Slytherin. The ideals fascinated and excited him. It was something greater than himself that he had longed to be a part of.

"The Sorting Hat said I was in Slytherin, so I was in Slytherin. There's nothing more to it than that," she said, shrugging.

Draco almost pitied her ignorance.

"Salazar Slytherin," he told her, "valued cunning, ruthlessness, ambition, and blood purity. We're born with these characteristics, you see. _They were bred into us_. In themselves, these traits aren't evil, but when in a single person, they can be a powerful force, a _deadly_ force. Slytherin _knew_ this. And these gits"—he motioned toward the school behind the stand of trees—"they can sense it. _That's_ why they hate us."

He gave her a sidelong glance. "So far, I don't see you exhibiting any of the attributes Slytherin desired. You're clever enough, I suppose, but to what purpose? You're not ambitious. You're too soft for your own good. Why are you even _in_ Slytherin, Parkinson?"

Pansy didn't reply to his speech. She was seething.

Draco was done babying her. He stood up, taking the umbrella with him. Looking back at her as he made his way out of the clearing, he couldn't tell if it was rain or tears running down her face.

"If you want to survive in Slytherin—in _Hogwarts—_you need to harden yourself to their taunts. People _will_ hurt you. You need to start fighting back and prove yourself. To the other Houses, but especially to us. You're a _Slytherin _now, Pansy. You need to start acting like one."

As Pansy watched Draco leave her sitting soaked in the middle of a half flooded forest clearing, she felt her fists curl tightly at her sides. _He was right_, she sensed. _I _am_ too soft, but things will be different now._ They wanted to see a true Slytherin?

Pansy Parkinson would show them.


	13. The Spell

**A/N:** I hope no one's too busy reading Deathly Hallows to review! I finished the last book at four AM on Sunday, and it was amazing. I promise that the following chapter(s) won't have any spoilers from DH, in case you haven't read it yet. Happy reading!

* * *

**The Spell**

He drew circles on her bare back.

She traced the scars on his chest, kissing them. They weren't as livid now, and for that she was thankful.

Night was beginning to fall, and he drew his cloak up over them. It was growing late, but he didn't want to leave yet. He knew what would happen if they left this little clearing. Never in his life had Draco ever wanted to stop time… until today. If it were possible, he would relive this afternoon again and again.

He still hadn't revealed to her what he was about to do. He didn't want to because he knew how she'd react. She would yell, she would cry, she would beg him not to. Draco didn't know whether he'd be strong enough for that.

But he _had_ to tell her because she deserved to know.

She deserved to know that he might not survive the night.

With that thought in his head, he drew her up to him almost forcefully, turning her onto her back, and burying his head in the soft hollow of her neck. He felt her arms wind themselves around him. And he sank, gratefully, into her offered warmth.

This wasn't a romantic gesture on his part, she knew. This was an act of desperation.

Draco felt so thin in her arms. He had always been lean and lightly muscled, but over the past few months, he had grown haggard—starved. It pained Pansy that he wouldn't trust her with his secrets; but she accepted the fact. She knew that he believed it to be for her own good, for her safety.

But You-Know-Who had returned. There was no safety for anyone. Not anymore.

She felt tears on her neck. "What's wrong?" she whispered.

He shook his head and kissed her hard on the lips, his tears falling on her face. "I—I can't."

"Hush… it's all right." She smoothed his white blond hair down, murmuring comforting words into his ear.

"No, Pans… it's not all right."

"It might not be yet, but it will be."

"It's tonight…"

"What happens tonight?"

"I have to leave tonight."

"Where are you going?" she asked worried. "When are you coming back? _Are_ you coming back?"

"I don't know...I don't know. But it's ready, and they're coming tonight."

She didn't understand what he was saying. He himself barely seemed to comprehend what came out of his mouth. She drew him closer to her, stilling his words.

"Don't worry about tonight. It's not here yet. There's still light left in the sky. I've always loved the twilight. Always peaceful, as if the world is holding its breath while the sun dies. The twilight always held such promise for me."

She kissed his eyes lids, his cheeks, his chin and finally his lips. "I want you to promise me you'll come back. Come back for me, Draco."

He held her tightly as they made love in that little clearing. "Open your eyes, Pansy," he told her. She obeyed him and heard him murmur, "_Legilimens_." Memories of Draco surfaced to the forefront of her mind. Hundreds—thousands—of images flashed through her mind of Draco laughing, smirking, taunting, embracing, and kissing.

The outpouring of her love for him rocked Draco to his core. He didn't realize… didn't believe… _couldn't_ believe… until now.

He reversed the spell, and allowed her to see into his mind. Finally he let her in to see the horrors and the fear and the secrets that were hidden there, accumulated from the past year. The only good memories he had were of her. Her lilting laugh, her mischievous grin, her body underneath his. _Her love_.

"Oh Draco, Draco!" she cried, tears streaming down her face. It was his turn now to comfort her, to smooth down her hair. They were meant to part that night. But as she said, it wasn't yet night, and they were still together.

Bodies wrapped around each other in the growing dark, legs entwined and arms clutching. As if reassuring the other of their presence, they whispered each others' name. Over and over.

Like incantations. Like prayers.


	14. The Boggart

**A/N:** On a very special "No One But Us"...

Hey guys, just letting you know that at the end of this chapter is a sort of "mini-essay" I wrote in response to a question by Conquering Worm about Book 7. I'm letting you know right now that there will be **SPOILERS** at the end of the chapter, though not in the actual chapter itself. I will put up spoiler signs again at the end, just in case you all forget. Thanks for everyone's reviews! Without further ado, I give you this week's installment of "No One But Us."**  
**

* * *

**The Boggart**

"_Pansy?"_

"Draco." She sat under her tree, knees tucked under her chin.

"Pansy, I was looking all over for you!"

"For _me?_ Well, that's a surprise. I thought you'd be off somewhere with your piece of skirt."

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't even bother lying."

"No—you don't understand."

"Hush, Draco. I _do_ understand. I saw you."

"You saw…?"

"I saw you… and _her_. Sneaking out of _here_."

"Blood hell… Pans, I swear to you, I didn't—!"

"I don't _care_, Draco," she said shrugging. "You're here. You're back. It doesn't matter. You don't have to explain."

"_I do."_

"It won't change what you did."

"_I know, damn it._ It's just… Pans, you don't know how much I hate myself right now."

She gave a short laugh. "We both know what you are, Draco. Just like you know what I am. She wasn't the first… she won't be the last. It's the same for me."

He sat next to her and reached out to hold her hand. She allowed him. "Are we fucked up as much as I think we are?" he asked.

Chuckling quietly to herself, she answered, "We're only children, Draco."

"But we're _Slytherins_, Pansy. Doesn't it feel like we grew up way too fast?"

"Yeah…the boggart today…"

Draco nodded, frowning. "That's why I was looking for you. Pans…I'm—I'm sorry about—"

"He didn't do anything to me," she snapped. "I barely even remember it. I'm still a…" Her voiced cracked. _"I'm still worth something."_

"Yeah," he said, squeezing her hand. "I just wanted to know if you were all right. You left in such a hurry after class."

"I'm fine. It was just… bad memories."

After a few moments, he continued, "At least your fear is something substantial. _My father_ stepped out of the cupboard, for me."

"_Merlin_," she replied, shaking her head. "The look he gave you made _me_ shiver."

Draco didn't look at her, but his hand tightened around hers again. "I hate him sometimes. He doesn't want a son—he wants a fucking _heir._ I make top marks in all my subjects, and he's disappointed that I didn't make the Quidditch team as a first year, just because _Potty_ does. When I _do_ make the team, he thinks it's just because he bought the team broomsticks. He didn't see how I flew out there. I was better than anyone else on that field. _Nothing I do is ever good enough for him_."

"You should forget about what he wants," she said. "You're better than all the boys I know. Don't even care about what he thinks."

"I can't… he's my _father_," he spat.

"I hate my father too."

Off in the distance, the pair heard the bell ring for dinner. The sound echoed off the surrounding mountains.

"Draco?"

"Yeah, Pans?"

"Don't bring her here again."

"I promise. When I'm old enough, I'll even put up a _Fidelus Charm_. You can be the Secret-Keeper."

She smiled at him. "You're _such_ a suck up."

* * *

**!!!!!SPOILER ALERT!!!!!  
!!!DO NOT READ FURTHER IF YOU HAVE NOT READ "DEATHLY HALLOWS"!!!**

* * *

**In response to Conquering Worm:**

As a diehard DM/PP shipper, I _have_ to believe that it's Pansy at the station with Draco. JKR doesn't give us _any_ information about the woman with him, but she _does_ give us seven books and the freedom to read between the lines.

I don't think that the Malfoy's "change of heart towards Voldemort" would affect Draco's relationship with Pansy at all. First of all, the Parkinsons—not even canonically proven to be Pureblood, though I doubt Draco would be friends with her at all if she wasn't—aren't Death Eaters. No Death Eater mentioned in the book is named Parkinson, so we can assume that her family doesn't have ties with Voldemort at all. Also, Pansy _never_ called Hermione a Mudblood. All her attacks on Hermione are based on appearance—not her blood.

One must also consider the Malfoys as a whole. They are Slytherins in the truest sense. Their allegiance—_their only genuine allegiance_—is to themselves. This was proved first in the fact that Lucius Malfoy, after the first defeat of Voldemort, claimed to be under the Imperius Curse. Narcissa Malfoy proved it herself when she went to Snape, against the express order of the Dark Lord, and made him Vow to protect her son. During the Battle of Hogwarts, the couple didn't fight but ran through the chaos hand-in-hand searching for their son. Book Seven did not show us a family devoted to a cause, but one who stayed for fear of retribution.

With those two things in mind, after the war it's natural that Draco would find comfort in the friends and loved ones he had before everything started. And if there _was_ a romantic relationship with Pansy (as I believe there was) there would be no hindrance on either side for them not to continue their relationship to the point of marriage. The relationship, after all, isn't based on ties to the Death Eaters.

In the epilogue of DH, JKR showed us two couples who had been with each other since their 6th and 7th years at Hogwarts. It's obvious she believes that high school sweethearts _can_ grow up to be married. Is Draco and Pansy's relationship any less deep than Ron and Hermione's or Harry and Ginny's? Less recorded, perhaps; but that's what fan fiction is for. Pansy and Draco have been written in together since the very first book. He is the yin to her yang; the peanut to her butter… eh, you know what I mean. In this light, I don't just think that Draco's marriage to Pansy is possible—I think it's almost definite.


	15. The House

**The House**

"Merlin, you look like death."

She made a rude gesture at him.

"Vulgar."

"Prat."

A sigh. "Just go to Pomphrey and get a Pepper-Up Potion. Honestly, Parkinson. One would assume that you would be able to brew a batch of a simple potion by your age. The Mudblood could brew one up by the end of our first year."

"Don't fucking talk to me about Granger. I hate that uppity little slag. She thinks she knows everything about everything. Makes me want to vomit."

"Particularly hostile today, aren't you?"

She huffed and crossed her arms. "You heard what they called me…"

"Pug-faced Parkinson, wasn't it? Or was it Pug-nosed?" He peered closely at her face. "You've been putting clothes pins on your nose again. I hope you realize that it won't work. You're stuck with that nose forever, but now it'll be red."

The rest of her face flushed. "Shut up, Malfoy. Go away."

"Too bad half of this clearing is mine, isn't it? Though, technically, the whole thing should be mine, since I found it first. I'm the one being generous letting you cry here every day after classes."

"I don't cry here every day!"

"No, I suppose you don't during the weekends," he mused.

"You don't know what it's like, Draco. Pretending with every fiber of your being that you're something you're not. You're already beautiful. It's really terribly unfair for you to be a boy and look as pretty as you do."

"Centuries of selective breeding will do that to you, I suppose. It's not your fault that you can barely trace your family past the eighteenth century."

"Don't you dare talk to me about the Blood," she spat. "I already had to go through all that during our first year. I proved the purity of my Blood along with the rest of you. Merlin! Being in Slytherin is more trouble than it's worth."

He looked exasperated. "That's one thing you've never learned, Pansy. You're not a Slytherin because you choose it. You're in Slytherin because you are Slytherin—"

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard this drivel before, Malfoy. Forgive me for not jumping to attention and reciting this blather like the rest of you, but the Parkinsons aren't Slytherins. My mother was horrified when she found out what House I was Sorted into, did you know that? Horrified."

"Yes, it's a sad misfortune, that. Your mother's biased against the Slytherin House because the ancestors of your father never aspired toward anything greater than being Hufflepuff. What vicious lies about Slytherins he must have filled her silly little French head."

"How she sobbed in that insufferable accent. You'd think living in England for the better part of one's life would remove it, but not my mother's. She wrote to Dumbledore, you know. Asking him to re-Sort me. Imbecilic."

"You would have been the sweetest Hufflepuff, I'm sure. You'd sneak into the kitchen to bake your housemates cookies, and leave clothes for the House elves to wear."

An un-ladylike snort. "I'd hang myself first."

"You don't have the nerve. You'd be too afraid to strangle that pretty little neck of yours. Well, maybe not pretty."

She drew her wand and held it to her temple. "I'll do it. A quick Unforgiveable right between the eyes. I wouldn't feel a thing, would I?"

His face paled. "You don't have the nerve," he repeated unsteadily.

"Don't I?" Her eyes were narrowed dangerously, glinting brightly.

"Pans—!"

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

Silence.

"You—you're alive?"

Pansy smiled sadly. "You really don't understand the Killing Curse."

"Why didn't you die?"

"It's not the words that give the Killing Curse power. It's driven on hate. It's the _intent_."

"So if you really wanted to kill yourself, you could do it with the Killing Curse?"

"No, I don't think you can. Deep down, I don't think anyone truly hates themselves. People who commit suicide simply hate their _situation_."

"Don't—don't do that again."

She gave him a smirk worthy of his house. "Aw, Malfoy. I didn't think you cared."


	16. The Cigarettes

**A/N**: Sorry once again for the not updating thing... I need to be more on the ball with that. Thank you for not abandoning this story because I promise that I haven't abandoned it either! Thank you all for your kind words and support/encouragement. You guys are the best!

* * *

**The Cigarettes  
**

"Who gave you the right to confiscate all my fags?" she seethed.

"You did, when you've proven yourself unable to make wise decisions. I've also confiscated all your alcohol."

"You're a _bastard_."

"So is that thing you're carrying."

A gasp. "I can't believe you said that to me."

He smirked. "I can't believe you were offended."

"I'm not," she sniffed. "I just—I'm—"

"_Late,"_ he finished for her.

She shot him a dirty look. She'd been giving him a lot of dirty looks recently. "How the hell would you know that?"

"I just do."

"It's only been a few days."

"You're always on time. I can set my watch by your uterus."

"I'm _not_ late."

He shrugged. "Tell that to your mother next July."

She huffed. "I'm not… I'm _not.._.—Give me my fucking fags back, you arrogant, self-absorbed prick!"

"_Fine,"_ he snapped, throwing the pack at her feet. "Drink and smoke and party for all I care. End up with a mutant Squib sucking at your tit!"

"_How dare you?"_ she gasped. "You're talking about our child!"

"_Our child_, is it_?_ You said you weren't late."

She shivered as the cold November air blew through the clearing. "I might be," she finally admitted.

"There's a spell, Pans. Don't even pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. I've heard it on good account that you've taught the spell to nearly half our year."

"I'm… scared."

"Of a spell?" asked Draco incredulously.

"Of what it might reveal."

He sighed. "It will say you are or you aren't. Very simple, really."

"And if I am?"

Draco looked at her cowering in her too large cloak, the green and silver scarf wrapped around her snow-white face.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," he finally answered. "_If_ we come to it."

Almost reluctantly, Pansy drew out her wand. He could see the tip quivering in small tight circles in the air between them.

"Draco… If I _am_… would you…?" he heard her whisper.

He gave her his infamous Malfoy smirk. "Is that what's been bothering you?"

"Don't you _dare_ make light of this, Malfoy. You're a male—you're an _heir_. You know nothing of what I have to deal with if my parents—!"

"Parkinson!" he said, grabbing her shoulders. "You're a stupid cow if you think for one moment that I won't protect what's mine."

Oddly enough, Draco's gruff words comforted her. Pansy let out a shaky breath, on the verge of tears. "Now, was that really hard to say?"

He gave her a genuine smile then, sighing. "Do the spell, Pans."

Taking a deep breath, she pointed the tip of her wand to her abdomen muttering, "_Parvulus presentia." _She braced herself for the telltale green light to bloom from the wand's tip.

She repeated the incantation again with more force. The wand remained unchanged.

"So what's the verdict then?" Draco asked casually. An unlit cigarette, produced from some hidden pocket, dangled from the corner of his crooked grin. "Preggers or not?"

"I'm…_not,_" Pansy gasped. "I'm not pregnant." She stared at her wand in disbelief.

"Pity," was his reply as he lit the fag. "I'd have liked a son. Orion or Scorpio or something or another."

"Scorpio's a dreadful name," she scoffed. Draco allowed her to steal the cigarette away from him and take a heavy drag.

Her fingers were still shaking as she blew the smoke into the cold November air.


	17. The Calm

**The Calm**

Draco watched Pansy.

Pansy sat against her favorite tree trunk, painting her nails, and humming tonelessly. Her toe nails were a hideous shade of hot pink that wasn't quite so hideous because they were on _her_toes. Draco was certain he would find the shade perfectly detestable had they been on anyone else's feet.

Strangely, he couldn't think of a rational reason as to why that would be.

"What are you doing, Malfoy?" she asked at last. "You've been staring at me all day."

"Sorry," Draco replied, shaking his head. Still, he watched her. He noticed how the late afternoon sun turned her dark brown hair into a kaleidoscope of golden red hues. With his eyes, he traced the bow of her lips, puckered like a petulant child's.

"Really, it's starting to weird me out." She threw a twig at him. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Nothing," said Draco, finally looking away. He pulled at the tufts of grass beside him. _Something is different today_, he thought. Not only that, but this indefinable something moved—_shifted_.

He looked at Pansy again. Something _was_different.

Or, maybe, _he_ was.

* * *

**A/N: **This chapter replaced the old chapter 17, entitled "The Battle." That chapter was moved to chapter 18 and renamed "The Storm."


	18. The Storm

**The Storm**

"Pansy! Pansy—_you stupid idiot! Where are you?"_

A cough. Weakly, "Here..."

"Merlin..." he breathed.

"It's—it's not that bad."

"Fuck. _Fuck_." Whispering, desperate, "What the hell were you thinking, sneaking out of Hogsmeade?"

She couldn't even shrug. "I wanted... to be with you."

"You little fool." He held her; blood slowly soaked through her clothes.

:::

A little while later, "I can't hear the fighting anymore."

He nodded. "The castle can't hold off much longer now."

Her hands were cold. Draco lifted them to his lips.

:::

"Pans! _Pansy!"_

She opened her eyes. Barely.

"Marry me, Pans. _Stay with me._"

A soft smile. "Of course," she said and closed her eyes.

* * *

**A/N: **This chapter was previously entitled "The Battle," and was published as chapter 17. However, in order to keep the promise I made at the start of this adventure, I had to rename this particular chapter and insert one right before it (be sure to go back and read the new chapter 17: "The Calm"). For the sake of the story, you understand.


	19. The After

**The After**

Astoria Greengrass was_ not_ Pansy Parkinson.

For one thing, Draco noted, Astoria was tall and willowy, while Pansy was short and curvy. Astoria was fair-haired; Pansy, dark. Astoria was also blessed with a regal nose. Pansy's nose was, as her schoolmates had often teased, pug-like. Draco referred to it as button-like, especially when he kissed it.

Astoria did not laugh when Draco nibbled on her neck, like Pansy used to. She didn't smoke, or drink, or curse like an immature schoolboy. She hadn't cheated on him once. Her nails were perfectly manicured in a respectable shade of taupe. She wore pearls and had tea with his mother every Tuesday.

And as he watched Astoria walk down the aisle, he could not help but think that perhaps it should have been someone else. _Certain_ it should have been someone else. Someone who died in a secret little clearing ten years ago.

For just then, by just a little bit, Draco hated his new bride.

Because Astoria Greengrass was not Pansy Parkinson.


	20. The End

**The End**

_We were stunning together, everyone always said. We were night and day, didn't you know? The silver-haired Adonis and the jet-black Persephone. We were king and queen of Slytherin. We were invincible. We were destined._

_But destiny counts for nothing when the world comes crashing down around us._

_We were supposed to be immortal, didn't you know? It was always supposed to be you and me, together. I used to always keep you waiting. Now, I'm the one who waits. I'm the one that watches you go._

:::

"Draco!" she sing-songed, as he entered the clearing.

"Hmm?"

"I've been bored out of my mind waiting for you!" Pansy reclined against an aged tree; her bare feet stretched out in front of her leisurely. Mindlessly, she fingered the shiny silver badge pinned to her cloak.

Draco threw his bookbag off and sat beside her, shoulder to shoulder. "Are you still playing with that thing? We've had it the whole year—I can't believe it still pleases you."

"What's not to like? It's shiny and pretty and tells everyone I'm perfect!"

"_Pre_fect," he corrected.

Pansy stuck out her tongue at him playfully. "Same thing." She rested her head against his chest, and Draco was able to catch the scent of her hair. They sat in silence listening to the early spring birds return from their winter travails, while the sun slowly dipped down into the horizon.

"Merlin, this is perfect, isn't it?" Pansy sighed.

"Oh, that reminds me…" Draco disentangled himself from her and stood. Pansy watched breathlessly for several minutes while Draco performed a complicated incantation. His eyes narrowed with concentration; beads of perspiration formed on his brow.

At last, he lowered his arms, almost panting. "Pans, ask me how to get to the clearing."

"Um, how do you get to the clearing, Draco?"

"You—!" Draco choked on his words. He attempted to speak several more times before shaking his head in defeat. "I can't say."

Pansy's eyes widened in delight. "You did it!"

Draco couldn't help the half-grin that formed on his face. "I made you a promise."

She leaped into his arms and kissed him hard on the mouth. "I love it, Draco, thank you!"

"For you—anything."

"This place will finally be just ours, right? No one else is allowed to come here?"

"I promise. No one but us, Pans."

The bell tower rang in the distance. "Shit! I was supposed to meet with Umbridge half an hour ago!" Hurriedly, she gathered her wayward shoes and bookbag, and—with one last grin over her shoulder—she sprinted from the clearing.

Draco watched as she raced back to the castle, her hair flying behind her like a flag.

_Fin._

* * *

**A/N**: Thank you to those who stuck with this story since the beginning. Your encouragement and support meant the world.


End file.
